


you say that i am yours (and i believe)

by allezgarcia (harrysmiles)



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrysmiles/pseuds/allezgarcia
Summary: The thing is – he has never fallen in love during a ballet class before.





	you say that i am yours (and i believe)

“Are you stupid?” is the first thing Pierre hears after he tells Richard the real reason his walk is so strange today. He knows everyone's paying attention, but Richard keeps muttering something about Pierre being tragically brainless during the whole warm-up, and Pierre doesn't listen, just leans his head onto his left calf, pressing it to the barre and wincing.

Dancing doesn't set Pierre free, or let him breathe or whatever it is they're saying: dancing is hard and challenging and it leaves no space for anything else, it makes him crash onto his bed with loud grunts late at night (Benoit squints at him sympathetically from his bed; “Do you need a foot massage or anything?”, he asks and raises an eyebrow, and Pierre is too tired so he just shows him a middle finger).

Ballet makes him want to give it up too often to ignore it, but he likes how it's always a competition with his mind and body; yesterday he practiced his fouettés for four hours straight with just two or three breaks to catch his breath and to gulp some water, just to see how is it going to feel then.

It feels terrible now; he came in class today and couldn't even move his legs properly before the warm-up, and Julien, their ballet master, just watched him silently and then screamed at him for at least an hour when the class ended, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

“He is right,” Richard tells him when Pierre comes to the locker room, his cheeks burning and his lips bitten; Richard's tone is soft but Pierre still scoffs.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you for always waiting for me after the class but now I won't do that,” he states, taking his sweaty shirt off and crushing onto the bench near Richard. “He called me an idiot, by the way. Don't you think it's a little too much?”

“You could earn a sprain or simply overwork and what would he do then?” Richard says, bringing Pierre his water bottle. Pierre takes it and sighs. “You're his last hope for that new A Suite of Dances production he has in mind. Didn't know he's such a fan of Baryshnikov, but whatever. I heard they're even inviting a new choreographer, so it's serious.”

“Julien told me to forget about the main part,” Pierre tells him.

“That's not his decision to make, the choreographer is allocating the roles himself,” Richard objects, “also, you know perfectly well this is a one-role ballet, and you're the only one here who can name all the six Bach suites it actually consists of, so keep your head up and maybe find some healthy practice tips.”

Pierre sighs and puts his head on Richard's shoulder.

“So you know the choreographer or what?” he asks. Every muscle of his body still feels sore. “Don't tell me you had an accidental affair with a man who's giving me a main role in a production.”

“Jesus, Pierre,” Richard says, and moves away as if he's offended; Pierre's still leaning on him and he grunts unhappily when his head is no longer resting on Richard's shoulder. “An accidental affair– I didn't fuck him backstage when no one was around, if that's what you're asking.”

“I'm not asking you anything,” Pierre tells him, opening his locker and finally making himself change into his jeans and a fresh shirt. “When is he gonna come to class? I should be ready to show my skills off.”

“He's coming tomorrow, which you would be well-aware of if you haven't been suffering so loudly through the speech Benneteau gave us before the class,” Richard says wearily.

“What do you mean, tomorrow? It's just unfair, my legs are still gonna hurt, and –”

“And it's doubtful he's going to ask us to show him our fouetté 'skills' at the first rehearsal,” Richard agrees, and Pierre wants to kick him but his feet still ache. Even his toenails ache.

“I hate you,” he says, helplessly. He puts his clothes and his water bottle in his bag. “And I'm gonna get that part.”

***

The next day Pierre's muscles are still burning, but his walk is okay, as Lucas tells him as he and Richard come to the locker room before the class. Pierre thinks about throwing a slipper at Lucas, who's awfully cheerful at just 8:30 in the morning, but he's not ten anymore, he is a first soloist and right now he has other things to think of.

He changes into his practice clothes silently, ignoring all the chattering around; usually everyone is grumpy and sluggish before their morning class, but today seems different, and he asks, “What are you all so excited about?”

Richard hugs him by the shoulders and Lucas frowns and asks, “Have you seen Mahut?”, and Pierre says, “I– haven't?”

“Is there anything you actually pay attention to apart of your fouettés?” Jo asks almost disgustingly, and Richard says, before Pierre can think of a proper reply, “He'll probably ask us to call him Nico, anyway.”

“How do you know?” Lucas asks suspiciously, and then it's time to go to the classroom, and Pierre still hasn't found out who Nico Mahut is.

***

“And to the left, a grand-plie– do you know what a grand-plie is, Gasquet? And what is it with your shoulders today?”

“Charming as always,” Richard mutters under his breath, clasping the barre harder than it's needed. Pierre scoffs at him; their hands are almost touching as they always share a part of a barre.

“I want you to meet someone,” Julien tells them once the warm-up is over and the barres are put away, “so please behave,” and then there's an unfamiliar man next to him Pierre hasn't ever seen in their dance company before.

“Everyone, this is Nicolas Mahut, your new choreographer,” Julien tells them, and they applaud as Julien kisses the man's cheeks. Pierre squeezes his water bottle.

“Call me Nico,” the man says once Julien steps away from him; Pierre finally really looks at him and thinks that his eyes are too blue, and Richard winks at him across the room, and he feels sick.

Nico Mahut sits near Julien as they watch the class go on; the dancers are told to divide into groups and repeat the jumps at the center of the class, Julien clapping his hands with the rhythm of the music, which suddenly seems too loud to Pierre, or it's just blood pounding in his head.

“The knees, Pierre!” he hears and stops, does the jump again; it's a cabriole, the jump he often has problems with; his muscles hurt when he beats his legs in the air, hoping Nico doesn't see his struggle.

“Good,” Julien says, and Pierre goes to the wall, leans onto it; he knows that it's still obvious his moving is a little rigid, and he feels almost thankful Julien doesn't mention it in class, but then he hears, “This is our first soloist, Pierre-Hugues, the master of fouetté,” and feels everyone's eyes on him, and of course Nico Mahut is watching him, too.

“I've heard about you, actually,” he says, “You were in that Romeo and Juliet production last season,” Pierre can't do anything but nod, hoping his cheeks are not too red. “Your Mercutio was amazing.”

“You flatter him,” Julien says just when Pierre blurts out, “Thank you,” and Nico Mahut smiles at him, and the class goes on.

When it's over, everyone says their goodbyes, and Richard and Lucas look at Pierre strangely when they're in the locker room, “Did you like him?”, asks Richard, and Pierre ignores him, just gathers his things and goes to the shower.

***

The next day, Nico is in class again, and this time they finish working near the barres and just sit on the floor and talk about A Suite of Dances, which Nico has never choreographed before; Julien listens to him as attentively as everyone else, and then says, “So, do you think Pierre will manage?”, and Lucas whistles under his breath. Nico watches Pierre and says, “I have a habit of believing in dancers I work with,” and then the class is over and Julien asks Pierre to stay for a moment.

“The rehearsals are starting this week, I made sure you can have the stage all for yourself,” Julien says, “and I expect you to be fit enough to stay for a quick rehearsal tomorrow, do you hear me, Pierre?”

“Yes,” he says. “When have I ever let you down?” Julien looks at Nico and rolls his eyes, and says, “Dismissed.” 

Pierre turns away and goes to the locker room, making his happiest face just to irritate Richard; and also maybe because Nico Mahut was actually smiling at him for the whole three seconds.

***

“Break a leg,” Benoit tells Pierre, and Richard sends him a quick kiss from the door. Pierre sighs.

“It's not like I have a premiere, so just get lost. It's not even a proper rehearsal.”

“Whatever you say,” Benoit says. He straightens the collar of Pierre's vest and lets him go.

***

They start with some variations Pierre knows already; Nico doesn't say a word while Pierre makes a chain of perfectly high jetés, finishes with a precise entrechat. It's only then when Nico says, “What about your fouettés?”

Pierre frowns at him from where he's standing, still breathing heavily. “Do you want me to show you?”

Nico Mahut just gestures at the center of the сlass and sits on the floor, leaning onto the mirror. Pierre nods, makes one or two tentative moves, then goes to the center.

He doesn't count the turns.

“Twenty three,” Nico says when Pierre finishes and puts his hands against his knees, steadying his breath almost momentarily. “You don't sound impressed,” Pierre says, his hair falling into his eyes over the bandana he wears. He fixes it, still looking at Nico.

“I just think you can do more,” Nico says; Pierre goes to his bag, dropped under the barre, drinks some water from his bottle. 

“Are you tired?” Nico asks. “Can you repeat that variation again, from the beginning?”

***

“How was it?” Benoit asks Pierre when he comes to their flat, sweaty bandana still in his hair.

“It's all good,” Pierre tells him. “I just need a drink.”

“Was it that bad?” Benoit asks. He's watching Pierre from their tiny kitchen, a glass in his hand. “You can have my smoothie, if you want.”

“No, thanks. I'm going to sleep. We are having a rehearsal on stage tomorrow. You can come and watch me.”

“To watch you drool over poor Nico? I've seen this in class already.”

“I'm not drooling over him,” Pierre says. He doesn't even try to make his tone convincing.

***

The thing is – he has never fallen in love during a ballet class before.

Even when he was a kid, – or a teenager, later – he had never seen any person like this, any person who worked with him in the theatre, made sure his moves were clean, his body fit, his costumes ready. He met people outside, and it was enough, sometimes they knew who he was, made a compliment or two about his dance and then left, and it was enough. He's fallen in love in museums, in bars, even once in a locker-room, but never in a ballet class. never during a rehearsal.

***

“Once you know the choreography,” Nico says, “it's within you. It's in your bones.” Pierre nods, because he feels like he has nothing to say with words, he can just dance; Nico makes a signal to the pianist to play a piece that they need, and Pierre repeats the variations again and again, and if his muscles ache when he stops, he doesn't notice.

***

One day, he meets Nico near the theatre before the class. He sees him smoking at one of the back entrances Pierre likes to use himself, and he watches Nico a little before approaching him; Nico looks different here, on a wet pavement covered with yellow leaves and cigarette-ends, where there is no barres or mirrors to lean on.

He says “Hi,” and Nico offers him a cigarette. Pierre shakes his head.

“Never met a ballet dancer who doesn't smoke before,” Nico tells him; if it's a polite way to stop him from staring, Pierre doesn't mind.

“Never met a choreographer who can spend two whole hours talking about Baryshnikov,” he says. The sun is beaming down on his forehead; he feels happy.

“Have you even talked to a choreographer before?” Nico asks. He sounds genuinely surprised. Pierre rolls his eyes just to see him smile.

“Every single one I met before you was fake,” he says. 

***

The day before the premiere is busy, it seems like the whole theatre is buzzing with excitement and anticipation, but Pierre is used to it. Nico and Julien make him do a center practice when it's already dark outside, he spent the whole day rehearsing and feels weak. When he thinks that he's going to collapse, Nico brings him some green tea, and Pierre thinks he could kiss him right in front of Julien and their pianist and whoever else is peeping into the class room right now.

Instead, he says, “I don't think I'll make it to the locker room,” and Nico says, “I could carry you but I'm tired too, so you need to mobilize yourself,” and Julien sighs loudly enough for them to hear and asks, “Isn't it too late for this already?”

Pierre goes to the locker room because he is strong and he is a first soloist who doesn't give up twelve hours before the premiere. He even makes it to his flat, and Benoit feeds him supper and doesn't even throw any variations of “break a leg” at him before they go to sleep.

***

The first run-through is far from perfect, and Julien's annoyance is palpable even though he's sitting in the stalls with Nico, and Pierre is on stage. Richard and Lucas are giving him thumbs-up from the backstage, and Nico doesn't look disappointed, so Pierre just tries again, goes through the choreography without the music, until his every move is perfectly precise and he feels every muscle of his body.

He asks everyone not to bother him during the final preparations, but Benoit still watches him while he is getting his makeup. Nico comes in too, just for a minute, and Pierre is grateful when he gracefully kicks Benoit out and then leaves, too. 

He likes being alone in his dressing room being all-dressed and ready, waiting for the voice of a stage worker to ask him to come backstage just five or six minutes before the performance starts. Julien kisses his cheeks and tells him he is beautiful and he'll kill it, and Pierre knows he's only like this in such moments, and he nods, because he can't talk right now. And then there is Nico, who takes his hands in his and tells him something about the nerves and the stage light and his costume, and Pierre isn't sure he even hears him, but his hands are warm.

The first step onto the stage is always the same, no matter how many of them he had before, it's overwhelming every time; and then the music carries him, and his body moves with it, and suddenly there is not a single thought in his head.

***

The applause is deafening, and it seems like the whole stage is filled with flowers; Pierre's back hurts but he keeps bowing; he doesn't even notice when Nico joins him, and the applause keeps thundering when he hugs Pierre by his shoulders, brings him close.

“You are so beautiful,” Pierre says all of a sudden because he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't even know why he's talking while they're still on stage and he is almost surprised when Nico turns his head a little, and Pierre feels his breath on his cheek. “Not as beautiful as you,” Nico tells him, and then, “Enjoy your moment, Pierre,” and he tries to, takes a deep breath, looks at the stalls, all colourful and flashy, feels Nico's hand on his back.

***

It seems like an hour has passed until they're off the stage, and everyone hugs Pierre and kisses him and clasps his shoulders, and it's a miracle he makes it to his dressing room; it smells of flowers, because they are everywhere; everyone is talking while Pierre is removing his makeup, barely seeing himself in the mirror because there are bouquets even at the dressing table. He's still trying to remove his powder when Nico is near him and he hands him an orchid, and Pierre is speechless.

Behind them, someone makes an amusing sound, and Pierre can't tell who this is, but he doesn't care. He looks at Nico, tells him, “How can I thank you for all of this,” and he almost knows it when Nico says, “A date would be fine.”

“A date?” he repeats, and he almost feels Jo and Richard sighing behind his back.

“Please, just say yes to him, Pierre,” he hears and says, “Yeah, okay, just – can we go somewhere far enough from here? I need to get a distraction from all these faces.”

There are some disappointed grunts after that, but he ignores them, because Nico smiles and nods and salutes to him with his glass of champagne. Pierre knows he still needs to stretch his legs and his back before he can finally have a rest, and that there's still a lot of work to be done with the production, but right now his dressing room smells of flowers, and Nico and him have been listening to the applause for the whole twenty minutes, and Lucas, Richard and Jo are still throwing offended glares at him, – and he feels so happy that nothing else matters.


End file.
